Dying Fire
by hullosweetpea
Summary: End!verse: Dean struggles to keep the nightmares away, including the one with Cas. As he's trying to cope Cas shows up and reminds Dean that nightmares don't always have to come true.


**A/N: While moving a tractor (welcome to rural Midwestern life!) I heard this song that I later discovered was "Burning House" by Cam. Let it be known I've had a falling out with country music for about 2 years now, yet this song sent chills through me. And Destiel feels. End!verse Destiel feels. It's not too late right? It's set somewhere after Castiel has lost his angel mojo, when he began his descent into all the wrong things.**

 **Disclaimer: Kripke**

Dying Fire

Dean watched as the fire burned lower, the light dancing over his body and casting angular shadows on the floor. He gripped the bottle tighter in his clumsy fingers, eyes weary and drooping, but he was trying to fight off sleep, to fight off his dreams. Normally he could only fight them off with two things: sex and alcohol. Tonight, it was booze. They found it during a raid three days ago and he told himself he wouldn't open it quite yet, to save it for when he really needed it.

He really needed it.

The dreams had been getting progressively worse. It started with Mary burning on the ceiling, her hair and nightgown whipping in the heat of the flames. Anguish and pain etched upon her face and Dean was helpless; he could only watch as his mother was consumed.

Then it was Sam.

He was burning in the pits of Hell; his mind ravaged and torn by Lucifer. Dean screamed himself hoarse trying to let Sam know he was there; let him know he didn't have to say yes. But every time Sam burned just like Mary did and he could hear Lucifer's cold laughter as his brother fell.

The one he hadn't expected was Cas.

It always began differently, but the ending was the same. He and Castiel would be doing something and then he would turn to look at Dean. That look would send shivers down his spine and a flame of desire would spark somewhere in Dean's chest. When he had the first Cas dream, the angel of the Lord pulled him in gently and leaned his head in until their foreheads were touching. His lips would ghost right over Dean's and then he would feel the flames. The next time their lips connected, rough and soft with just a bit of timid pressure. From there the dreams were longer, more passionate, more intimate.

Until last night's.

And it was because of the outcomes of it that Dean didn't want to sleep. Not wanting to risk it returning, or even one of the others.

The kissing started out slow and soft, hands remained at waists, eyes closed. Soon it was longer and more heated; deeper and hungrier. Fingers wandered lower, digging in a bit more, pulling at clothes. Skin against warm skin. Castiel nuzzled his nose against Dean's neck and Dean cradled Castiel's head against him. Clothes were left on the floor and the heavy thud of bodies landing on a mattresses echoed against empty walls. Dean kissed him again, hands curling against the hair at the nape of Castiel's neck. Cas pulled away from Dean and smiled at him; the corners of his eyes crinkling in a soft and loving way. "I love you," he whispered.

Dean reached a hand up and let his finger lingered across Castiel's face. "I love you too." He pulled him down for a kiss and that was when he felt the burning heat. He began to panic; every other time Castiel seemingly combusted. It was if an imaginary fire erupted at his feet and spread until he was separated from Dean and when the flames died down there was nothing left.

This time was different and so much worse.

He could hear the flames as they began and Castiel pulled himself quickly away from Dean. Dean looked down to see the small flares and smoke that would normally appear, but there was nothing. He returned his gaze up and was terrified by what he saw.

Cas's wings were on fire.

The great, black wings were alight with fire; smoke curling as it ate away at the feathers. The flames licked at Castiel's body, blackening his skin. The light from the fire casted jumping, frantic shadows against the wall behind him. " _Dean_!"

He tried to reach out for Castiel, but he was frozen, his voice caught deep in his throat.

He was forced to watch helpless as Castiel burned, loose feathers floating in the air as the fire consumed all of what was Cas.

Dean shuddered as he remembered the haunting and horrifying dream from the night before. He put the bottle to his lips and tipped it all the way back until the last drops cascaded down his throat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and let the bottle crash to the floor. He didn't need it any more.

He stared at the fire dying in the fireplace. An irrational part of him thought if he watched this fire all night he wouldn't be haunted by the ones in his dreams. The embers pulsed red and orange, seemingly inviting, but Dean knew of the damage that could be done.

"So what is our fearless leader doing tonight staring at a fireplace?"

Dean twisted his body around violently to see who it was intruding and saw Castiel. His face was covered in a large, sleepy grin. He stumbled into the room and sat down at Dean's feet in front of the fire. "What are you doing here Cas," he growled.

Castiel snuggled back against Dean's legs and stretched his hands out to be warmed by the dying fire. "Don't really know. Don't really know much of anything anymore."

"That's not true."

Castiel sighed. "Even if you insist that's not true, it's not like I'm much of a help anymore. Who wants a broken angel?"

Dean felt a rush of emotions spread through his body. Unconsciously he let his hands fall to the top of Cas's head and let his fingers run soothingly through his dark hair. "You aren't broken."

Castiel moved so he was facing Dean, his eyes filled with sadness, but the sleepy, disconnected smile remained on his face. "You don't know how broken I am Dean."

Dean looked at Castiel, the fire dancing behind him, obscuring his face in dark shadows. It was too much like his dreams. He wanted to get away. Prevent what normally happened. He wanted to keep Cas safe. Hide him from his own demons. Dean glanced down at the bottle he dropped, the bottom of the thick glass cracked up the side. The two pieces gave a distorted glimpse through the floor, uneven and broken.

Broken.

Dean gazed back over at Cas and leaned closer to him. He hesitantly brought his hands up to Cas's face, letting his thumb graze over his cheek bones. "You aren't broken," he murmured under his breath. He dropped his head and tentatively pressed his lips against Castiel's.

He felt a rush of warmth course through him and he tugged Castiel up closer to him. Cas's arms wrapped around Dean's waist. Dean slide out of the chair and into the other man's lap, the warmth burning hotter. Castiel pulled away and gawked at Dean. He looked equal parts confused and mesmerized. Dean smiled gently and ran his hand across Castiel's face again. Cas shivered and gripped Dean tighter. He pushed Castiel until his back was against the floor and trailed kisses down his neck.

Cas made the first move, edging his fingers under Dean's shirt. The action ignited something in both of them and soon the floor was muddled with their clothes. Both were desperate for a distraction, for comfort, for something more passionate and intimate. Fire catching between them both and fanning their desire.

-o-O-o-

Dean woke up tangled in Castiel's limbs; the pale, early morning light coming in from the dirty windows. Castiel looked different when he was asleep: more young and innocent, like when Dean first met him. When he was just an angel of the Lord, following orders. Before the Winchesters dragged him into their unlucky lot. Dean carded his fingers through Castiel's fingers and it was then he made his decision.

Castiel stirred under him and blinked his bleary eyes open with a smile on his face. "Morning." He stretched and glanced at the window. "Or some kind of version of it."

"You need to go."

Cas's expression fell. "Why?"

Dean moved away from him. He stared at the ashy remains in the fire place, the fire long gone. The last wisps of smoke curled on the descent up the chimney.

"If you don't want to say anything, fine." He hastily reached for his clothes and yanked them on. "I understand." He strode towards the door and opened it. He glanced back at Dean over his shoulder; his eyes glazed over and blinking rapidly. "I thought…," he sighed. "I believed you last night, you know." He paused and stared Dean down. "Now I don't know what to think." He slammed the rickety cabin door shut and it sent a shudder through the cabin.

Dean wrapped himself tighter in the blanket Castiel had found last night, still smelling like him. As Dean watched as the embers cooled he knew he made the right decision. Cas was safe. 


End file.
